deepundergroundpoetry.com
Teeth
The fellow was in his fifties. And like a child he was.
He laughed and beamed. His silver whiskers trembled.
The lines on his face crinkled. Like an old shirt.
Like his favourite burrito. His joy was immense.
Nothing in the world could stop. His face was unbeatable.
Ear to ear was a distance hurdled. He was gold medallist.
No muscle wore out. No sweat at all.
No teeth got in the way. Of his winning smile.
---
Internet's being wonky! I hope this one makes it!!!
He laughed and beamed. His silver whiskers trembled.
The lines on his face crinkled. Like an old shirt.
Like his favourite burrito. His joy was immense.
Nothing in the world could stop. His face was unbeatable.
Ear to ear was a distance hurdled. He was gold medallist.
No muscle wore out. No sweat at all.
No teeth got in the way. Of his winning smile.
---
Internet's being wonky! I hope this one makes it!!!
Published 8th Mar 2014
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8th Mar 2014 12:42pm
This was our art history teacher waaay back in the 80's! I couldn't forget him!
8th Mar 2014 1:12pm
darn....I th'ought you was writin'bout me.
o'well...
yes, you 'made it', & a most sweet mini-po'trait'o
life lived in
living
colour....
bless ye , dear
8th Mar 2014 1:47pm
8th Mar 2014 2:09pm
8th Mar 2014 5:18pm
very nice poem
I love :
"The lines on his face crinkled. Like an old shirt.
Like his favourite burrito. His joy was immense"
I love :
"The lines on his face crinkled. Like an old shirt.
Like his favourite burrito. His joy was immense"
8th Mar 2014 7:50pm
Lovely write ... It captures so much about the character and depth of this man just in your studying his face
9th Mar 2014 2:16am
10th Mar 2014 6:38am
you paint a very definitive portrait of your teacher whose smile took the gold...
